Chapter 21 #2
Charlotte sat upon the settee in the drawing room, a book open in her lap, though she could not recall a single sentence she had read. Her eyes followed the printed words, but her mind betrayed her—darting instead to thoughts of him.
Luca.
Every time she tried to focus, his image appeared—the way his eyes softened when he smiled, the way his voice seemed to wrap around her name like a promise.
He had her in ways no one else ever would.
She had to tell him how she felt. She must. And yet, the closer she came to doing so, the more her courage slipped away like sand through her fingers.
The long clock in the corner chimed the hour, its solemn tone a reminder that the dinner bell would soon ring. Her stomach twisted. Would he come tonight? Would she have another chance?
Her musings were interrupted when Jane glided into the room, the faint rustle of muslin accompanying her graceful entrance. “Good evening, Charlotte,” she greeted warmly.
Charlotte quickly straightened and lowered her book. “Good evening. Will Alistair be joining us for dinner?”
Jane nodded as she crossed the room. “He will, though he is currently meeting with Lord Luca.”
Charlotte’s heart leapt before she could stop it. “Luca is here?”
“He is,” Jane confirmed, her tone tinged with curiosity. “Does that please you?”
Feigning indifference, Charlotte shrugged. “It neither pleases me nor displeases me.”
Jane laughed softly and took a seat opposite her. “You are terrible at hiding your feelings.”
“I beg to differ. I have become quite proficient at it,” Charlotte countered.
“Perhaps in certain matters,” Jane said, eyes glinting with amusement, “but not when it comes to matters of the heart.”
Charlotte exhaled and set her book on the table, the sound of it closing far louder than she intended. “What do you suppose Luca is discussing with Alistair?”
Jane lifted a delicate brow. “Does it truly matter?”
“Of course not,” Charlotte rushed out.
Jane moved to sit beside her. “Then allow me to ask plainly—what is it you want, Charlotte?”
Charlotte hesitated. What did she want? To be brave enough to admit that she loved him.
To build something real—something lasting—with the man who made her feel both entirely herself and entirely undone.
But fear whispered that she would lose him if she dared too much.
It was that fear that had always made her hide behind her careful mask.
Before she could answer, a deep, familiar voice came from the doorway.
“Charlotte.”
Her breath caught. She would know that voice anywhere. Slowly, she turned her head, and there he was. Luca stood beside Alistair, the fading sunlight from the hall catching the edges of his dark hair.
“Good evening, Luca,” she managed, though her pulse quickened. “I trust that you are well.”
His lips curved into that smile—the one that had the power to unmoor her entirely. “I am now that I’ve seen you.” He stepped further into the room. “Did you miss me?”
Her lips twitched despite herself. “Can anyone truly miss a rock in their boot?”
A chuckle escaped him. “I missed you, too.”
She rose quickly, smoothing her pale blue gown as though it would steady her nerves. “Is there a particular reason you are here?”
“I am here for you,” he said simply.
Her heart stuttered. “Pardon?”
Luca’s smile deepened. “Your brother has graciously agreed to allow me to take you on a brief tour of your gardens. I was hoping to speak with you in private.”
“For what purpose?”
“You shall know soon enough.”
“I do not care for surprises,” she said.
He extended his arm, the gesture both gallant and teasing. “I am hoping you will like this one.”
She pretended reluctance, though her pulse sang as she placed her hand lightly upon his sleeve. “Very well, but only because I am vaguely curious.”
Alistair’s voice interrupted from behind them. “Jane and I will be watching from the window. Do try to behave yourself, Charlotte.”
She glanced over her shoulder and arched a brow. “I always behave myself.”
Alistair smirked. “We both know that isn’t true.”
Charlotte bit back a laugh as Luca led her towards the veranda. But with each step, her nerves grew more and more taut. What did he mean that he was “here for her”? Was this merely his usual teasing—or something more?
The evening air met them with a faint chill, fragrant with the scent of roses and damp earth. Once on the veranda, Luca released her arm but stayed close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
“How are you faring?” he asked.
“I am well.”
He cocked his head. “The truth, if you please.”
She sighed. “Whenever I close my eyes, I feel as though I am back in that dreadful cell. The cold. The darkness. The sound of the women who died there.” A shiver coursed through her. “It’s difficult to forget.”
Luca’s expression softened with compassion. “I am sorry that you were forced to endure that.”
“It was awful,” she admitted. “But at least Lady Matthew was saved.”
He nodded. “I received word that she departed for their country estate the moment her husband was arrested. He, meanwhile, is rotting in Newgate—demanding to be released.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I cannot fathom that a man would try to murder his own wife.”
“He is vile,” Luca said. “And he deserved far more than a punch from you.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I had never struck anyone before. It hurt far worse than I imagined.”
“I thought it was rather brave.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “But I should have contained myself. I must remain in control. It is the only sense of normalcy I have.”
He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. “I happen to like the woman beneath the control. Beneath the mask.”
Her heart gave a painful thud. “You do not mean that.”
“I do,” he said. “That is the woman I love—the woman I wish to spend my life with.”
Fearing she’d misheard him, she asked, “What are you saying?”
Luca ran a hand through his hair, visibly searching for words. “If I loved you less, I could speak more easily. But I am undone, Charlotte. You’ve left me entirely undone.”
“You… love me?” she whispered.
His lips twitched into a tender smile. “That is the one truth I am certain of. I don’t know precisely when it happened—perhaps within seconds of meeting you—but you changed everything. And I cannot go back to what my life was before you. Truth be told, I don’t know how to not be in love with you.”
Charlotte stared up at him. His words were genuine, unguarded—and they terrified her. What if he grew tired of her? What if she was not enough?
As if sensing her thoughts, Luca reached for her hand and clasped it firmly. “I can promise that with me, you will never have to wonder if you are enough.”
“But—”
“Do you love me?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with vulnerability.
She dropped her gaze. “That is not a simple question.”
“It is,” he said. “Do you love me?”
“I…”
He placed a finger beneath her chin, urging her to meet his eyes. “I would do anything for you, Charlotte, but I will not force your heart,” he said. “I love you as you are, and I would never want to control your fire. Your passion. All I need is to be near it.”
She drew in a shaky breath, knowing she had a choice to make. She could keep hiding or finally be brave.
She chose to be brave.
“I do love you, Luca,” she said. “I tried not to, but it was hopeless. Loving you feels as natural as breathing.”
His expression melted into pure joy. “Then marry me.”